One Night in the Prancing Pony
by melissakay
Summary: A saucy story about a dwarf, a beer wench, and Gandalf's Pointy Hat Trick. Kidding about the last bit. I don't own these characters (well, apart from the bar wench, she's my creation) but I sure as shit wish I owned me a life-sized Thorin Oakenshield…


**One Night in The Prancing Pony…**

_A saucy story about a dwarf, a beer wench, and Gandalf's Pointy Hat Trick. Kidding about the last bit. I don't own these characters (well, apart from the bar wench, she's my creation) but I sure as shit wish I owned me a life-sized Thorin Oakenshield…_

It was a dark and stormy night… No really, it actually was. We were packed to the rafters with all sorts of queer folk looking for a bed when in walks Mithrandir – otherwise known as Gandalf the Grey – like he owns the place, and how about this for cheeky? He just expects me to set aside a room for some dwarf friends of his who are supposedly on their way. Like I can just conjure up a room with thirteen beds on the fly! Pfft, I says to him, and I tell him, in no uncertain terms, that he can have the barn if he can be bothered mucking out the stalls first!

Now I'm not the type of girl who goes gaga over a mere male. I work in a _bar,_ so I don't really have time to get all girly when a good looking fellow walks in, but not long after Gandalf sat his haughty britches down, in comes heaven on legs, looking for the wizard. He's about five feet five inches tall (big for a dwarf); all long dark, wavy hair streaked with grey, a short beard (again, unusual for a dwarf), and the most mesmerising blue eyes I've ever clapped my own two peepers on. Seriously, I thought he was one of those foreign types who come to our shores to try to sell us things we don't need but apparently really want – he just had a mysterious, somewhat exotic vibe to him; but all he was looking for was a pint of lager and a word with the grumpy old wizard in the corner. I pointed him toward Gandalf, and then went around back to throw a cold cloth on the back of my neck. As I said, I'm not one to swoon, but _whoa_!

Anyway, a few minutes later, back in the bar, Gandalf was holding up his hand and gesturing toward their table.

'Blimey,' I said, 'He only just _bought_ a pint! What does he want, now?' (Not that I really minded, I just wanted to give the impression I was ticked off. Privately, I was thrilled to have to go over there, if it meant getting another look at the handsome stranger!)

'Bethesda,' panted my overweight boss, 'What the wizard wants, the wizard gets. He pays good money, and he makes sure my crops are aplenty every year. All of this in exchange for the occasional favour. Now you better get your fancy butt over there, he wants something.'

I couldn't help but quickly check my reflection in the mirror behind the bar before I headed off to the dim corner of the room, toward Gandalf and the gorgeous dwarf. I realise that those two words don't tend to go together too often but if you saw this one, you'd make an exception. I found that as soon as his eyes lit on me my knees started to shake; and I was very glad of my long skirts!

'I'll be your waitress,' I told them, careful not to meet his gaze too keenly, for fear I might fall in. 'My name is Beth. What can I get you?' I _know _what I can get _you,_ I thought, saucily, noting how big and strong his hands were. When I started to imagine them on my body I had to try to distract myself with mundane things like their drink order!

'I'll have another beer, thanks, Beth,' said the Hot One, in a low, almost gravelly voice that made parts of me literally ache.

'Another beer, coming up,' I only just managed to say, as our fingers entwined around his empty mug. 'I'll just refill this for you, shall I?'

'Come to think of it, we'll have a jug of that to our table,' said Gandalf. 'It will save you from having to walk back and forth, my dear.'

Oh but you don't understand, I thought, I don't _mind _walking back and forth, as long as I get to come back to your table as often as possible! I let my eyes wander over Gandalf's companion. It was a pleasant little meander, indeed, in case you were wondering!

'Aye. Thank you. And who might your friend here be, Mithrandir? You haven't introduced us.'

'This is Thorin Oakenshield,' said Gandalf. 'Thorin, this is Beth, the best waitress in all of Bree.'

'And the best barkeep,' I bragged, shamelessly. His lips broke into a smile that made me want to climb into his lap and suck his face right off. God damn! I'd never, _ever _heard of a good-looking dwarf before. I'm a human female, and some of my own kind can be far too hairy for my liking, but a _dwarf_?! Tell me this wasn't happening!

'I'll wager you are,' he said, in _that_ voice. His eyes never left mine. I wanted… God, what I wanted! It's almost unprintable!

'I'll get you that jug,' I croaked, hoarsely, putting the mug back on the table and somehow extricating my fingers from between his.

'Wow,' breathed Esmeralda, my co-worker and part time co-conspirator, when I got back to the bar. 'Who is _that_?'

'_That_ is apparently Thorin Oakenshield' I told her. 'And he's _mine_. I saw him first.'

'He might be married,' Esme (my nickname for her because her real name was just too much of a mouthful), said, not at all helpfully.

'I don't think he's married,' I said.

'How do you know?'

'I don't know, I just… Oh, will you go back to washing those mugs before the supper rush?'

Esme smiled, knowingly. 'I think Beth has a crush.'

'_I _think you had better get back to work.'

'So,' said Esme, with a grin, 'are you still determined that the dwarves should sleep in the barn?'

'Back to work!'

Soon the far corner of the room was brimming with little hairy people, as two by two (and sometimes three by three) Thorin's company started showing up. I gave orders to my subordinates (two waitresses and a busboy) to go over to the old barn (which we no longer keep animals in by the way; my comment to Gandalf about mucking out the stalls was in jest) with sheets, pillows and blankets, and make it ready for our extra visitors.

After tending bar for a few minutes, I headed back over to the table, where a dwarf with a white beard flicked up at the ends was holding court over what looked like a map. As soon as he spotted me though, he rolled it up quickly. 'Secret men's business,' he explained.

'Don't you mean secret _dwarves'_ business? Seeing that you're not actually human, and all,' I pointed out. 'And I know what you're doing anyway. You're plotting a course to the Lonely Mountain. It's been a major talking point lately, given the state of things.'

Thorin frowned. 'The state of things?'

'All the unrest,' I said. 'Surely you know.'

Thorin looked baffled. 'Know what?'

I leaned in closer, which of course was my plan. My 'uniform' for work was a low cut dress with a laced up bodice. He couldn't miss my cleavage if he tried. And he did try, I'll give him that. He was a real gentleman, this one. Only my feminine wiles wouldn't allow him to maintain that stiff upper lip for too long!

'It's the dragon,' I whispered. 'Some say he's restless. He's been spotted flying over the outlying villages. But no one knows when he comes and goes – and he's never gone long enough to miss his treasure.'

'_Our_ treasure,' Thorin corrected. 'It's the treasure-trove Durin's folk built on for thousands of years. So technically it's ours. Mine and my nephews, cousins and other family, that is. But we want to share it with those who are in need. We're not greedy.'

'Speaking for myself, I'm not really all that interested in treasure…' I started to say, but a dwarf with a mostly bald head and a reddish brown beard snorted derisively. '_All _women are interested in treasure.'

I raised an eyebrow at him and put a hand on my hip. 'Yeah? Well maybe I'm not like _all_ women.'

I glanced down at Thorin then and couldn't help but notice the expression on his face. I think I'd said exactly the right thing. At least he knew now that if he did succeed on his quest, I wasn't the gold-digging type. It was on the tip of my tongue to offer him my bed for the night, and a little 'going away' present. Just in case. I mean, what if he never came back? Perish the thought, I told myself. What a waste that would be!

'I was about to say,' I said, 'before I was rudely interrupted… It's wonderful that you're planning to spread your good fortune among the needy. Dale in particular could use a boost to their coffers. That place has gone to pack, in recent years.'

'We'll do our best, love,' said a rather portly dwarf sporting a beard that looked like a plaited breadstick. 'We might even help out Bree a bit.'

'That would be lovely,' I said. 'Now if you all don't mind, we're about to close, soon, so it's last calls. Your beds are being set up in the barn in the back. I'd offer you better rooms, but as you can see, we're full to the brim here, tonight, what with the weather, and all.'

'That will be fine,' said Thorin, favouring me with those beautiful eyes of his. 'Believe me; we've slept on far worse already. Thank you, Beth.'

'You're welcome, My Liege,' I said, curtsying a little. '_Anything _I can do to make your stay more comfortable will be no trouble at all.'

I realise I was laying it on a little thick but time was a-wasting, and I wanted to get my message across as plainly as possible. I think I succeeded because his cheeks filled with colour. 'I'm not a king, yet,' he conceded, humbly. 'I… I'm not sure I ever will be.'

'Nonsense,' said the wizard, who'd been sitting back, blowing impressive smoke rings with his pipe and listening to the dwarves' banter. 'You were born to rule, Thorin Oakenshield. It's in your blood.' His tone of voice brooked no argument.

'Well,' added Gandalf, 'We'd better get an early night. We've got a long walk tomorrow, if we're to get to the shire and find that burglar of ours. And then we have to convince him to leave his hobbit hole. That alone will be a considerable undertaking.'

After the overnight visitors had finished their drinks and wandered upstairs, and Esmeralda and I had seen the dwarves and Gandalf to their sleeping quarters, I was in the bar putting away the night's dishes, alone, when I heard a noise. To my delight (and high anxiety), it was none other my favourite dwarf standing at the bar. Gone were his many layers of clothing – all he wore were a pair of britches and a laced-up maroon undershirt. My eyes couldn't seem to break away from the glimpse of his smooth skin between the gaps. I forced them back up to his face with some difficulty!

'Are you having trouble getting to sleep?' I asked him. 'I know a few potions for that. Nothing magic; mind. Just some herbs.' I can think of a few _other _things that would tire you out, too, I thought, but didn't say!

My thoughts must have been broadcast in my smile, because he blushed again, and the sight was enough to give a girl palpitations! The blue of his eyes stood out even more than usual, rather like sapphires, really. Not that I'd ever seen _real_ sapphires – just read about them, in books. But I bet his eyes were just like that.

'No,' he said. 'I could go to sleep if I wished, but I… how do I say this? I couldn't stop thinking about you… in here all alone, washing up. These are dangerous times, as you said.'

'That's sweet,' I said, 'but I don't need a bodyguard, really.'

'Perhaps company, then? Or some help?'

I raised an eyebrow. 'The future king of Erebor doing dishes? That _would _be a sight to see. Unfortunately, you're a little late. I'm almost finished.'

'Is there anything I could do to help?'

I shrugged, and gestured at the broom in the corner. 'You could sweep up for me. That would be wonderful.'

He nodded and got to work straight away. If there's one thing I can say about dwarves, as money-grubbing as I've heard they are, they're certainly not afraid to get their hands dirty. He even offered to put the chairs on the tables first, but being that most of our chairs were human-sized and hard even for me to lift, I figured it was probably going to be a struggle for him. 'Just sweep around them,' I said. 'I only do a proper clean once a week.'

Just as I was about to blow the candles out in all the lanterns, there was a noise outside like a banging gate, and the whinny of a horse. Thorin hurried to the closest window. His profile was visible to me, and he frowned, darkly. 'It's Azog,' he said. 'My sworn enemy. And I don't have my sword!'

'Orcs?' I said, fearfully. 'What are they doing here?'

'They probably heard we were in town,' he said, backing away from the window. 'I'm truly sorry, Beth. I didn't mean to bring this danger to your door.'

'Don't be silly,' I told him. 'Look – they needn't know you're even here. Hide behind the counter. There's a space just down here, look.'

The thought of hiding from trouble was clearly disturbing to Oakenshield. 'I'll not hide like a coward,' he said. 'Is there something I can use as a weapon?'

'We have a kitchen back here,' I said. 'Take your pick.'

But he'd spotted something better, and strode over to the fireplace. Taking up the iron poker, he hefted it in both huge hands and nodded. 'This will do.'

'Against an orc with a sword, and probably an army?' I said, fearfully. 'You'll never get to the Lonely Mountain if you die in here, tonight. It will all be for nought.'

He clearly seemed to be taking this into consideration. 'I don't like the idea of hiding,' he said. 'It goes against everything I stand for.'

'But you'll be outmanned,' I reminded him. 'Quick – I can hear them coming. I'll do my best to get rid of them.'

He sighed. 'Fine. Where is this place you speak of?'

'Beneath the bar, here,' I said, standing aside and gesturing with a flourish. 'It's just big enough for a dwarf, I think, without all your usual layers, anyway.'

He kneeled and made himself as comfortable as possible beneath the counter, and it was just in time, too, because the door slammed open and in walked the ugliest orc I'd had the misfortune to see in the flesh. It narrowed its already beady eyes at me. 'I heard a company of dwarves was in town,' he growled. 'Where are they?'

'You heard wrong,' I said, glad I didn't sound as scared as I felt. 'Oh, and by the way, we're closed. I was just about to put the sign on the door.'

'I don't care,' he sneered. 'Get me a beer.'

'We're _closed._ Not serving any more tonight,' I repeated, in a condescending tone meant for infants and the hard of hearing. 'You'll have to go to the Happy Hour Tavern down the road. They're open til late. And I do mean late. That's perhaps where your dwarves have gone. We've had nought but men and hobbits in here, tonight, as well as the odd elf.'

'What about wizards? You had any of those?'

'No,' I lied. I'm an awfully good liar, when I need to be. 'None of those; not for months.'

The orc grumbled under his breath. 'I'll be back tomorrow.'

I shrugged. 'Suit yourself. You're not going to find anything.'

'Smart little mouth on ya,' he observed. 'How about I sew it shut?'

I raised my favourite carving knife so he could see it. 'How about you don't?'

He seemed to rethink his little threat. 'Just sayin'…'

'Well as you can see, we're closing up, so I'd appreciate it if you would leave.'

He snorted in disgust. 'All right, all right, I'm going! Don't get your knickers in a twist.'

As soon as the orc was gone, and I could hear hooves retreating, I bent to check on Thorin. 'You okay down there?'

He nodded. 'You were very brave. Do you have to deal very much with orcs?'

'Not really,' I admitted. 'Not around here. They're foul smelling things, aren't they?'

'Foul in all ways,' Thorin agreed, and was about to come out of hiding when we heard another noise, this time from the staircase to the left of the bar. Either it was my boss, woken by the hubbub down here, or one of our overnight guests. Thorin didn't bother coming out. It would have looked rather unseemly if someone were to walk in and spot him crawling out from under the bar!

As it happened, it was the stuck up woman from Room 3B, who'd arrived that afternoon with her overweight husband. They were like mismatched salt and pepper shakers, those two – she as thin as a rake and he the size of a small elephant. We'd had to put them in adjoining rooms because she complained that her husband snored and she could never get to sleep. Apparently she was a lighter sleeper than even that.

'What was that hideous noise?' she asked, looking down her long nose at me. 'I thought you'd be closed, by now.'

'Uh… Just an unruly drunk trying to get me to serve him more beer,' I lied. 'Its fine now, Mrs…'

'Hortense Houndsley. I should hope you remember that for next time,' she huffed, indignantly. Just as I was about to reply, I felt something slide beneath my skirt. Hoping against hope it wasn't a rat, I continued. 'I will,' I said. 'Now, would you like a brew to help you sleep?'

My skirt lifted beneath the edge of the counter, and I remembered Thorin. What on earth was he up to?!

'No,' said Houndsley. 'If I have a drink too close to bed, I'll be up all night on the chamber pot! Silly girl.'

'I'm sorry,' I said, curtly. 'But I'm not familiar with the bathroom habits of our senior citizens, so I just have to guess.'

Well, you can imagine what sort of a tirade _that_ remark set off, and while the middle-aged hag berated me for daring to call her a senior, my guest under the bench was making _his_ presence well and truly felt! His warm hand fondled my thigh and tugged down my knickers as Houndsley chided me for being insolent and rude, and warned me that she'd be speaking with my immediate superior. I could only grasp the edge of the counter and bite my lower lip, and try hard not to gasp, as Thorin kissed those _other _lower lips!

'Uh… um… err… of course,' I stammered, heat spreading through my groin and thighs. I was going to _kill _him! Fuck him senseless against the cold storage icebox first of course, and then gleefully kill him, for putting me through this! But God help me, he knew how to push all the right buttons!

'I shall need a hot water pan upstairs,' said Houndsley. 'In about twenty minutes or so.'

'Yes, Ma'am.'

As soon as I heard her door close upstairs I let out the shuddery breath I'd been holding.

'You can come out now,' I said, in a low voice, but it seemed he was far too busy driving me crazy because he didn't budge an inch! If anything, he ramped up the exquisite torture until I was quite sure my head was about to leave my shoulders!

'Oh God… _oh_…' I breathed; as yet another wave hit me. 'How did you learn to do that?'

His dark head finally emerged from beneath my skirt. 'It was just something I wanted to try,' he said, with a grin. 'I couldn't help myself. The way you handled that old bat – not to mention Azog... had quite an effect on me.' He climbed out from under the counter and grinned at me. As if I needed my heart to speed up even more!

'You've had quite the effect, yourself,' I said, trying to put myself in some kind of order. My face felt flushed and hot, and my body was still teetering on the brink of orgasm.

'I can see that,' he said, his blue eyes mischievous. 'Would you like me to finish what I started?'

'Oh no more of _that_,' I said, quickly. 'You're liable to have me screaming the place down, and that _won't_ do! Do you want to wake up _all_ our guests?!'

'Then what do you suggest?' he asked, his magnetic eyes blazing. 'Because I'd really like to continue this.'

Oh, so would I, I thought! 'My room,' I said, quickly, grabbing his hand. 'Come on. I'll lock the door, and we won't be disturbed.'

We stole along the corridor to my usual room, which was toward the back of the Prancing Pony. Locking the door behind us, I turned to him. 'How did you know how to do that? What you did with your mouth, I mean?'

He grinned. 'I read about it somewhere. A very old book with some very… suggestive pictures. It made me feel quite strange, if you want to know the truth. But in a good way.'

'What kind of book would that be?' I wondered, aloud. 'I've never heard of such a thing.'

'Nor had I, to that point. But there were some interesting ideas in there.' That mischievous glint was back. 'Want me to show you some more?'

'I'd actually like to show _you _something,' I said, tugging at the laces on my bodice. 'Is that okay?'

'That's… ahem… fine,' he stammered, as I laid open the front of my dress and stepped toward him. His eyes couldn't help but leave my face and travel downward, settling on my ample chest. I reached out and took one of his strong hands in mine.

'It's okay, you can touch,' I said. 'I won't bite. Unless you want me to.'

He chuckled, blushing. His hand was warm, rough, and trembled slightly as it cupped my right breast. I flicked my dark hair over my shoulder, baring yards of creamy white flesh, there for the taking. I wanted those lips of his all over me. I wondered what his beard would feel like against my skin. Would it be scratchy, or would it tickle? I'd never been much for the hirsute type, but I could forgive him the goatee – the rest of him was so damn fine!

I put my hand over his and squeezed. 'I'm not made of china,' I told him. 'I won't break.' I looked up at him as I pressed his forefinger and thumb together, my nipple trapped between them. He bit his lower lip, and visibly gulped. 'I want you to have your way with me,' I told him. 'All of this' I waved a hand downward, indicating the rest of my body… 'Is yours.'

That was really all it took. Well, that and a crafty little wide-eyed expression that I hoped spoke volumes. He fell upon me, kissing my neck and shoulder, his beard answering my earlier question – it was so ticklish it was almost unbearable! I worked at untying the string that bound his undershirt to distract myself from the butterfly-soft movement of his mouth along my collarbone, not an easy task when I could barely see what I was doing, but then it was all by feel, anyway. His mouth found my breast and I arched my back slightly, sliding my hands over his powerful shoulders and ridding him of his shirt. I closed my eyes as his tongue curled around my nipple, then flickered against it. It reminded me of what his tongue had done downstairs, beneath the bar. My cheeks burned and I felt a hot longing for him to pick up where he'd left off. But that was selfish. This wasn't just about me.

I sighed as he sucked at my nipple and then let go, his breath on my wet skin sending shivers straight to the core of me. I took a step back toward my bed and let him follow me there, dropping my dress to the floor on the way. Thorin stepped over it and pressed on my shoulders, gently, so that I was sitting on the end of my bed. He started to hover over me, and I think he expected me to lie back, but I wasn't ready for that yet. I shook my head and started to unfasten his britches, the waistband of which was right at my eye-line. 'What are you doing?' he asked.

'Payback,' I told him. 'Just relax.'

I took him into my mouth, this other sword of the King under the mountain, and what a sword it was. Let's just say it wouldn't all fit in my mouth and leave it at that, shall we?! He let out a shaky breath and stroked the hair on the back of my head as I sucked, licked and kissed my way up and down his shaft, my hand squeezing him gently then tickling his scrotum. I knew I had him in the palm of my hand – literally – when he let out a sexy-sounding moan and then whispered, 'Stop.'

I kissed the tip of his penis and let go. 'How was that?'

He laughed, nervously. 'You really need to ask?'

'You don't want me to keep going?'

'Well, yes, but that wouldn't be much fun for you, now, would it?' he reasoned.

'I don't mind.'

'Of course you don't,' he said, with a smile, tilting my chin up so that our eyes met. 'You're sweet. And much too good for the likes of me.'

'That's not true,' I told him. 'You're a king… or you will be. After your quest is done. I'm a mere barmaid. How does that even compare?'

'It only matters to those who don't matter,' he said. 'I don't care that you are a barmaid. You are quite literally the loveliest thing I've ever seen.' His voice took on that low, guttural tone on those last few words and my stomach did a weird somersault-y thing. Suddenly I wanted him inside me more than I've ever wanted anything. I lay back on the bed, naked as the day I was born, and looked up at him. 'Take me,' I said; my voice hard with urgency. 'Take me _now._'

He couldn't get out of those pants fast enough, it was almost comical! Tugging off his boots, he threw them into the corner of the room and soon his britches followed. Finally we were skin on skin, from head to toe. His hands swept over the sides of my body as his lips found my throat and then my earlobe. His penis pressed hard against my pelvis, and I reached for it, but he stopped me. 'Not yet,' he said, with a grin.

'Are you trying to torture me?' I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.

'Something like that. Only with pleasure, not pain, obviously.' His hand let go of mine and slipped between my legs, stroking me there. I was already wet but the earlier orgasm had worn off. He nibbled at my earlobe gently as his fingers played me like a violin. It wasn't long before I was breathing erratically and my heels were digging at the sheets. Every inch of my body buzzed and tingled. My eyes closed, I had to go by feel. My hand tugged at his wrist. 'Too much,' I panted.

'Oh, but I'm having fun,' he chuckled. His fingers delved inside me, and his thumb circled my clit. I threw my head back and gasped. That was more than I bargained for! Was this what he read about in that book of his? All I can say is, thank god he was literate!

'Oh,' I sighed, 'Oh… oh… _oh_'

My internal muscles clenched as I went into orgasm. He didn't try to remove his fingers though. He kept working at me until I had to turn my head into the pillow and bite my lip to keep from crying out. My back arched once, twice, three times as I silently rode the waves that threatened to engulf me. And he hadn't even entered me yet. What would _that_ be like, I wondered, half delirious with pleasure!

Finally I let out a half moan; half gasp and pulled him toward me. 'Fuck me,' I demanded, my voice sounding strange to my ears. 'Fuck me _hard_. Fuck me like a _king_.'

He laughed, and removed his hand from betwixt my legs. 'As you wish.'

His first thrust was indeed majestic. It was powerful and forceful, and to honest, sort of hurt, but I was in such a state of bliss that I barely noticed. He filled me completely, and stayed there, lingering for a few seconds, before withdrawing, then ramming into me once more. I wrapped my legs around his waist and held him inside, loving the feel of him. My fingernails raked at the muscles in his shoulders as they flexed, and my eyes met his intense gaze. He retreated, but only for a couple of seconds before letting me have it again.

'Faster,' I whispered. I had only read about head-board pounding sex and I wanted it. He nodded, and moved to the left slightly, bracing himself with his other knee and elbow. The shift in position put a different spin on things, angle-wise. Each thrust sent a new zing through me, as the shaft of his penis rubbed against my clit going in. Faster and faster he went, oblivious to the fact that he was sending me to the moon!

My eyelids flickered. I was no longer able to control my breathing or the sounds that were coming out of my mouth, but I no longer cared. I heard someone say, in a breathy voice, 'Oh God, Oh _God_'; and realised it was me. I'm not even particularly religious. I tried to meet his thrusts, in an effort to stave off the inevitable, but he put a hand on my hip. 'Just stay still,' he said, panting with the effort of talking and fucking me at the same time. 'It'll feel better.'

It already feels a damn sight better than I ever imagined, I thought. How could he improve on matters?! But I did as I was told, staying still as he moved his hips over mine, rocking back and forth, the friction becoming almost unbearable in its intensity. Finally my orgasm broke, and I can honestly say I actually saw stars. Or I thought I did. He came shortly after, and collapsed over me, breathing into my ear, sending delicious shivers down my spine and only adding to my utter discombobulation! If that's even a word. Anyway, he was as finished as I, and probably more tired, because he did the bulk of the work. I felt bad about it in a way but sure that I could make it up to him. I'd done a little of my own reading, as it happens, and I planned on surprising him when he woke up!

Suddenly there was a knock on my door. Or rather, a series of angry knocks that sounded as though someone was trying to break the door down!

'Bar keep,' hollered Mrs Houndsley from 8B, 'where on earth is that hot bed pan I ordered, over an hour ago?!'

I put a hand over my mouth. 'Oops.'

Thorin and I looked at each other, and burst out laughing.

The End


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